


Look VWhos On Top Nowv, Chief

by anotherjadedwriter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blackrom, Blood, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Scratching, codpiece fucking, dubconish, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 17:31:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherjadedwriter/pseuds/anotherjadedwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That bard outfit is the most ridiculous thing you have ever seen. But, you suppose it has a few uses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look VWhos On Top Nowv, Chief

You’re not used to being under someone. You, as a Makara, are usually the tallest person in a room, or a group. It’s just how it is.

Since you are also usually the strongest person in a room, you’re not used to being the receiving party in a black romp. Not that it doesn’t happen, just that you usually plan for it to happen, instead of you starting in on Cronus, planning to be on top and having him be able to pin you to the floor.

This doesn’t happen much.

And now that you’re under him, he’s muttering his usual dirty talk that isn’t much of a turn on for you, since he keeps asking questions like you’ll be able to answer. He’s an idiot.

"How’s that? Look who’s on top now, chief." He snarls. grinding his hips into yours.

Why he chose to wear that ridiculous bard outfit, you can’t say, but the codpiece is rutting up against your sheathe so nicely that you don’t even really care, you just dig your claws into his shoulders, doing your best to tear the fabric on them.

That only eggs him on, and he leans in to growl in your ear as he grinds his codpiece into you.

"Bet you’re as much of a fuckin size queen as your cute little descendant ain’t ya? You clowns’re all the same." He drags his tongue over the shell of your ear and you hate yourself a little for the whine you let out. "He wanted this fuckin codpiece, not even my bulge could satisfy the little slut. Bet you’re just as bad."

You snarl as best you can, breaking into his mind to speak, the flashing indigo of your eyes partially reflected by his pure white eyes.

“Motherfucker, what blasphemous shit are you spouting now?" A simple question hopefully he’ll answer it, or you might have to pick his mind apart a little, and he always get’s cuddly when you do that. "Explain yourself, seascum trash.”

He blinks a few times, then bares his teeth, grinding against your sheathe with the codpiece again and, oh fuck, your bulge is already out, that hurts. You don’t make him stop, just shift your legs around his hips so he’s pressing at your nook more than anything.

You shiver when he snaps at your ear before speaking. “Just what I fuckin said, Kurly. I fucked Gamzee with my codpiece and he asked for more.”

An actual shudder rips though you at that, at the thought of Gamzee, who is basically your messiahs both, spread on that stupid fucking codpiece and your nook clenches needfully on nothing.

You want it.

He’s going to make you ask, you can tell from the cocky set of his lips. So, you rear back and headbutt him, right in the mouth.

He snarls and there’s blood pouring down his chin as he yanks himself back off of you. You shove your pants as far down as you feel the need to, flip onto your stomach and lift your hips.

You’ll pull him over with hooks in his pan itself if he refuses.

Apparently, though, he gets some sort of stimulation on top of the general satisfaction because he nearly lunges at you, the tip of his codpiece pressed right against your nook. You push back just a little and fuck, it’s thick and kind of hard and it’s stretching you incessantly, wider than his bulge would, it makes you pull your stitches in an attempt to moan. Cronus’s hands grip your hips and he pulls you back slowly, then pushes you forward, and it reaches your foggy pan that he’s probably doing his best to coat the thing in your prematerial but it just feels like teasing.

And that pisses you off.

You growl and flash your eyes at him, and he flicks the tip of your horn with one hand, then roughly pinches one of your grubscars and finally, finally shoves the rest of the way into you. You actually tear your stitches entirely with the scream that rips from your throat, and you’re sure that you’re bleeding, but you look down and there’s only the color of your material and the lewd scene of him pulling you wide open like this.

After a few seconds, he starts to fuck you, hard and ruthless, his claws digging into your hips and your mouth open and bleeding and leaking moans while you do your best not to pass out.

He speaks over the sound of skin-your skin, you vaguely realize-and leather slapping, and the wet noises of you just sort of taking it.

"Fuck, you stretch real fuckin wide, don’t ya? Y’know I can hardly feel-“ Here he presses in deep enough that your claws sink into the floor under you. “Any of this. Gonna take me a fuckin while to get off. And you’re not goin anywhere, either.”

You choose to ignore that, because you can get him off with half of your attention gone texting Mituna or Muelin and not even looking at him, with one hand. Instead, you decide to enjoy it as long as you can, arching your back and getting him to hit this wonderful little bundle of nerves in your nook that makes you keen.

That fucker, he rakes his claws down your back, then yanks your head back by the hair. “You’re gettin off on me puttin you in your place, ain’t ya?”

You growl weakly, then shriek as you come, suddenly, spraying indigo over yourself. He, true to his word, doesn’t even slow down, and it makes you arch and whine pathetically, clawing at the floor from over-stimulation, your bulge sort of hanging for a full minute of him fucking you, then writhing angrily back to life. All too soon, he pulls out of you, and your hips follow him for a few inches, a whine spilling from your lips.

He’s grinning. “Since you’re so goddamn docile, flip on your back.” He’s stroking the codpiece, dripping indigo, and you notice the violet dripping down his thighs.

You flip over, spread your legs, keep your lips together like they should have been anyway. He slides into you smoothly and starts moving, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. Your claws finally, finally tear through his outfit, digging into the flesh underneath and making you give a satisfied growl between the stilted gasps already leaving your mouth.

It never takes long when you’ve already come once. Another minute of him fucking brutalizing your nook and you come again, shoving at his chest because if he doesn’t stop, there will be absolutely no hope of you walking for at least a week. He stops, because he’s not an animal, and pulls back, shoves the outfit out of the way to get to his bulge, and jacks off on you.

Once he’s done, he collapses on you and you snarl at him with no real menace behind it. You don’t really care if he cuddles you, you guess.

Your mouth hurts, and your legs are completely useless. You think you’ll have to lose more often.

**Author's Note:**

> THis is what I write for fun. I'm sure my mom would be thrilled.  
> if you liked this, consider supporting me here: https://ko-fi.com/A781PZJ


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